I am a Brown woman
Black is not the reflection that I see
Solely a name given to me
Cocoa Queen
Glittering Chocolate Goddess
Of all the soulful and deep colors
Black is far too modest
Black is representative of the void
A place where creativity is birthed
But Brown contains all life
A color symbol of nurturing, Mother earth
Brown-skinned Healer
Cinnamon hued Shaman
Holding space for the collective
Purging hidden trauma
I am a Brown woman
Not black, nigger or negro
I define my color as I see myself
Sunbathed Mocha: an enriching color that reflects my authentic glow
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress6 days ago in Poets
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